


please accept this (extraordinary) love

by sunlacie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Johnny shows up and is a bit of an asshole, M/M, Mark is five years older than Donghyuck, gratuitous usage of musical terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 19:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlacie/pseuds/sunlacie
Summary: The first time Donghyuck meets Mark is at their wedding.-In which nineteen year-old Donghyuck marries Mark, and finds love where it isn't supposed to grow.





	please accept this (extraordinary) love

**Author's Note:**

> This is very self-indulgent - I've been feeling stressed and incredibly down the past few weeks. This helped, a little. I hope someone reads this and likes it, too.
> 
> **Notes:**  
\- In case it isn't clear, there is an age gap between Donghyuck and Mark of five years. Donghyuck is nineteen (international age) when they get married. If this bothers you, please stop reading!

The first time Donghyuck meets Mark is at their wedding.

“You look lovely,” Donghyuck’s mother tells him, straightening out his collar. She smiles wanly at him, a quiet nervousness suffusing her face. He doesn’t know why she’s nervous – she’s not the one about to marry a complete stranger, in front of three hundred people and about a thousand media outlets.

He doesn’t say any of this. “Thank you,” is what he says instead, gently pulling her hands away from his suit. It’s all white, contrasting harshly with the tan of his skin. He’s glad that the makeup artist seems to have found a shade of foundation that matched his natural skin. He wonders if maybe the makeup artists were hired by Mark’s side, not theirs – he’s always shown up to functions a shade or two lighter than he actually is.

His father is nowhere to be found, and so is his older brother, Youngho. It figures – his wedding isn’t important enough to pull his father away from his work, not when he could be elsewhere, securing another fortune to add to their growing empire. Youngho, Donghyuck knows, hasn’t been informed about this wedding and won’t be until after the fact – there’s no doubt he would be outraged, that he would fight tooth and nail to prevent his little brother from entering a marriage with a stranger.

Youngho is the only person who could put a stop to this wedding. There is no way he could be allowed to come.

“Ma’am?” A woman wearing an earpiece comes in, holding a clipboard. “Is he ready? Mark is already waiting behind the entryway. We should start soon – the press is getting antsy.”

Donghyuck’s mother blinks, before schooling her expression into one of composure. “Of course. Please, take care of my son.” The woman bows, before looking expectantly at Donghyuck.

He seizes up, suddenly terrified. He feels like a child, and he is, really – nineteen years old, about to marry a man five years his senior. In that moment, he wants nothing more than to run away.

The gentle hand that his mother places at the small of his back grounds him somewhat, bringing him back to reality. “You’ll be alright, Donghyuck,” she murmurs, smiling and tucking a stray lock of light brown hair behind his ear. “He’s a kind man. He’ll take care of you, and we’ll be right there with you, okay?”

Donghyuck swallows, willing himself not to cry. He’ll inconvenience too many people if he does. “Okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips together after the last syllable. His mother cups his face in his hands and pulls him down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. It startles him, the sudden display of affection – he’s never known her to have such sentimentality. All too soon, however, she’s directing him towards the event planner, and suddenly he’s walking behind her, following her through a long, dark hallway.

She’s talking to him, he realizes at some point, and he blinks, trying to catch the tail end of what she was saying. “He’ll be waiting for you behind the entrance,” she tells him. “You just need to follow him to the altar and say ‘I do.’ That’s it, I promise. It shouldn’t be difficult at all.”

_Are you kidding me?_ Donghyuck wants to scream at her. _I’m about to marry a total stranger. I’m about to exchange wedding vows with someone I’ve never even met in front of a million cameras and you’re telling me it’s not going to be difficult?_

Instead, he nods, the sound of his dress shoes hitting the floor repeatedly echoing throughout the hallway. They stop in front of a simple metal door, and she turns to him, her hand on the doorknob. “He’s in there, and he’ll take care of the rest,” she tells him. She raises her free hand, as if maybe to reach out, but thinks better of it and lowers it as she opens the door. He’s grateful she didn’t – her pity, a _stranger’s _pity, would have only stung even more.

There’s a man waiting in the room as he enters. Donghyuck notices that he’s wearing all black, matching his dark hair perfectly. He’s tall, a bit taller than Donghyuck, and he turns around when he hears Donghyuck walking through the door.

Donghyuck has seen pictures of Mark Lee before – pictures that the man’s secretary had sent to his family, and pictures that Donghyuck himself had looked up online, in the privacy of his room. Meeting him in real life only confirms his initial impression – he’s handsome, but not extraordinary, and when his eyebrows rise upon seeing him, they really do look like the cartoon seagulls people draw on pictures of beaches.

“Hi,” Mark says, and it sounds weird, aborted almost, as if he’d just choked on his words. “Sorry – um, I – I just got here, and someone told me you were coming, so I – well, I wasn’t expecting you to be here so soon, so, I. I – haven’t gotten to compose myself.”

Donghyuck blinks, not saying anything, and it seems to _fluster_ Mark. “Sorry, I’m the older one between us, I should be…” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. His black hair is styled back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and big, round eyes. Eyes which seem to be looking anywhere but at Donghyuck. He really is in all black – even his dress shirt and necktie are black, as if the stylists were trying their best to draw as sharp a contrast between them as possible.

Unwilling to succumb to the awkwardness, Donghyuck takes a deep breath and steps forward, looking at Mark’s face head-on. “Hi, I’m – I’m Donghyuck Lee,” he says, offering his hand. He doesn’t bother speaking to him in a friendly voice, or to put up any pretense – in a few minutes, this man will be his husband.

Mark looks up, shoulders relaxing slightly as he regards Donghyuck. “I know,” he says simply, and he chuckles a little when Donghyuck tilts his head. “I know you, Donghyuck.”

He takes Donghyuck’s hand, and from there, he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let go as he guides the two of them out of the waiting room, out of the silence and into the chaos of a hundred cameras going off as soon as they appear. Mark’s hand is cold and clammy, and more than once, Donghyuck finds himself impulsively squeezing it, trying to offer some modicum of reassurance.

But not once does Mark let go, and Donghyuck doesn’t know what to think of that. He doesn’t let go as they read the vows that were written for them, nor when the officiator asks for their confirmation, and he doesn’t let go as he leans in and gives Donghyuck his first kiss, a chaste, almost tender press of his lips that ends almost as soon as it begins.

And Donghyuck –

Donghyuck _wonders_.

He wonders, if maybe, there’s something that he’s missing.

-

The drive to their new apartment is silent. Mark is careful to give him some space, sitting at least two feet away from him in the back of the car. Donghyuck supposes that he’s grateful for the consideration, but he doesn’t know if he’s comforted or bothered by the distance.

His new wedding ring sits heavy on his finger, and he’s been twisting it this way and that ever since Mark had put it on his hand. It fits perfectly, which isn’t surprising; what’s surprising is how much he likes the design. The pinkish gold color of the metal, the little sun-shaped centerpiece composed of finely cut diamonds, the way the ring is composed of strands of metal that wind around his finger. Ostentatious, to be sure, but still organic. The ring that Donghyuck had placed on Mark’s finger was a simple rose gold band, with a single diamond in the middle. He’d been surprised that their rings didn’t match, but then again, he hadn’t had a hand in choosing them.

“Are you hungry?” Mark asks quietly, but it still makes Donghyuck jump. It’s the first time either of them have spoken since getting into the car. “No, not really,” he says, not really looking at Mark. His _husband_. “I ate a lot at the reception.”

“Liar,” Mark says, and Donghyuck’s pulse spikes in apprehension, only to be calmed by the little smile on Mark’s face. “You barely touched your food. I don’t think you ate a full plate of food in all the time that we were there.”

Donghyuck frowns, unused to being called out. “I was nervous,” he admits, and the expression on Mark’s dumb face only gets softer as he says it. “I didn’t feel like eating. I don’t feel like eating now, either. I don’t think I could keep it down.”

“I understand. You should turn in early tonight, and get some rest. We both should, actually.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck agrees, turning to look outside the window again. Mark says nothing more, and the rest of the car ride passes in silence.

When they reach their place – a penthouse suite at the very top of an exclusive condominium, accessible only by a direct elevator – Mark hands him a key card. “Go ahead and open it,” he says, smiling at Donghyuck’s confusion as he looks at the shiny card in his hand. “I’m guessing they haven’t taken you to see this place, yet. I – well, I actually chose this place, and the furnishing. I hope you like it.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. _Mark_ had chosen their home, and he’d had no say in it? _You’ve had no say in anything_, his mind helpfully supplies. He bites his lip, swallowing the questions in his throat, and presses the key card to the sensor on the door.

The first thing he thinks, when he enters, is that it’s incredibly clean – not just in terms of tidiness, but color as well. The entire unit appears to be white, from the walls and carpeting, to the furniture and even décor. The whiteness of it all contrasts starkly with the dark blues and purples of the skyline, visible through an expansive window that appears to take up one whole wall in this area alone.

His eyes wander around the space as he walks forward, taking things in – the enormous flat-screen TV, the chrome paneling, the sparse amount of house plants around the place, the only hint of color that he can pick up right now. He knows Mark is right behind him, waiting expectantly. There are many things that he could say, from _the place is lovely_ to _why wasn’t I informed that you chose our apartment_, but instead, what he says is: “How many bedrooms are there?”

He doesn’t need to turn around to guess that Mark’s face falls. “Two,” he says, voice carefully neutral. There’s a beat or two of silence, before he continues. “Would you be more comfortable sleeping separately?”

Donghyuck inhales sharply, still facing the view of the skyline. He nods once, a sharp, jerky movement of his head. “Just for tonight,” he whispers, unsure if Mark could even actually hear, unsure whether he’s making the right choice or not.

He hears movement around him, and he feels Mark’s hand tentatively reach out, brushing against his wrist before gently encircling it with his fingers. “For as long as you need to,” he says lowly, and Donghyuck turns around to see Mark with an earnest expression on his face. “I know that you – I, well, I know that today was a lot. And this, everything, all of it is a lot. I just want to make things as easy for you as I possibly can, and – if it’s better for you that we sleep in different beds, then so be it.”

His hand is only loosely wrapped around Donghyuck’s wrist, almost as if he’s afraid that he’ll spook him if he holds too tight. The openness on his face scares Donghyuck, partly because he’s not sure what to do in the face of this much sincerity, and partly because he’s afraid of how easily he thinks he’s assessing Mark’s emotions, after barely a day of knowing each other personally.

“Just for tonight,” he says again, reaching out his other hand to hold Mark’s own. He squeezes it reassuringly, like he had earlier, at the ceremony. “I’m – I’m just tired. Really tired. From today, and the past few days. I wanna sleep on my own, because I kind of turn into an octopus when I’m tired.”

Mark’s brow furrows. “Octopus?”

Donghyuck feels his face coloring, releasing Mark’s hand and attempting to free his wrist, but failing. “I mean that, um, when I sleep while I’m exhausted, I tend to cling onto anything within reach. I – well, I figured you wouldn’t want that, because you’re really tired, too.”

Mark bursts out laughing, sounding pleasantly surprised, and Donghyuck feels some knots loosening at the sound of Mark’s laughter. “Thank you for your consideration, then,” he says, smiling, and they both know that he doesn’t buy it one bit. This time, though, he doesn’t call Donghyuck’s bluff. “I wouldn’t have minded, but if it’s what you want… let me show you around, and then we can both go wash up and sleep, yeah?”

His hand naturally moves down from Donghyuck’s wrist to lightly hold his hand, and Donghyuck wonders how Mark can do all of this so – so _easily_. Sure, Donghyuck isn’t showing much of what he’s feeling – God forbid the scene that would play out if he gave into the impending meltdown that’s been brewing since he woke up – but he’s in awe of how gently and easily Mark interacts with him. It’s as if it had only taken the older man a few hours to come to terms with their marriage, with the fact that they’re now each other’s_ husbands_.

Donghyuck wishes he could be like that. Unfortunately, his body is screaming at him to lie down and close his eyes before the stress of today inevitably crashes down on him, threatening to overwhelm him.

Later, when Donghyuck is settling in his new room (his family had had his belongings delivered here, and his clothes are already hung up in the enormous wardrobe), Mark pops in one last time. He’s already showered and changed into sleeping clothes, and his hair is down, hanging loosely over his face. “You okay? Everything alright?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck nods, hugging a pillow close to his body. The room is smaller than his bedroom at home, but the design is more to his liking – he’s never felt fully comfortable in the gigantic ancestral home, one of the last vestiges of his family’s wealth.

“I’m just in the other room, if you need me. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me,” Mark says. “I’m just going to be taking some calls, but I’ll be turning in, soon. You should try to go to sleep, okay?”

“You’re not – are you going to work, tomorrow?” Donghyuck winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. It makes him sound like a child, and really, he still is. He feels small now, perched on the bed, watching Mark’s tall and dark figure at the door.

The older man’s eyes soften at his question. “Nope,” he says, smiling slightly. “Honeymoon leave. I’m not going to work for at least two weeks – if I could’ve gotten off longer, I would’ve.”

“You’re the boss, though, aren’t you?” Donghyuck asks before he can stop himself. Mark laughs, throwing his head back. “Trust me, I’m nowhere near being the boss,” he says, amused. “I wish, though. Maybe I could’ve gotten time off with you for at least a month.”

_Why, though?_ Donghyuck wants to ask, a question that’s been resting on his lips since the moment that Mark took his hand back at the wedding venue. _Why are you trying so hard to be kind to me?_

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he says, drawing his knees up to his chin, compressing his pillow. “I wouldn’t want to pull you away from work for too long.”

Mark’s face does a funny thing when he hears that, and suddenly he’s walking into the room, sitting at the edge of the bed. Donghyuck resists the urge to scoot away and lean against the headboard. Mark’s hand rests a foot away from him, carefully maintaining distance. “Donghyuck, whether we like it or not, we’re married now,” Mark begins. The wedding band on his finger catches the light, glinting. “I – you’re my husband now, and that means that you’re my first priority now. Above everything.”

He hesitantly moves his hand forward, as if waiting for Donghyuck to take it. The boy’s heart aches at the trepidation on his face, and he reaches out impulsively, covering Mark’s hand with his own. “Thank you,” he says, not sure what he’s thanking him for. “You’re… you’re much kinder than I was expecting.”

Mark’s eyes flicker back and forth across Donghyuck’s face, searching. “I want to do my best for you,” he whispers, and this time Donghyuck can’t knot that forms in his throat, suddenly affected by Mark’s words. “If you’d have me…”

“You’re my husband now,” Donghyuck says, echoing Mark’s words. “And I’m yours.” He passes his thumb over Mark’s knuckles after saying that, hiding his face in his pillow. _You’re married to him now_, Donghyuck thinks, feeling Mark’s hand lacing their fingers together. _This is the reality_.

There is no going back.

-

Living with Mark is… strange.

It’s strange because it’s nothing like Donghyuck had been expecting. He’d been expecting minimal conversation and awkward silences – in fact, he hadn’t been expecting Mark to be around at all. He thought that Mark would go right back to work after the wedding, and Donghyuck would be left to figure out what to do, basically aimless after his parents had compelled him to drop out of his college course to get married.

Instead, Donghyuck wakes up to a beautiful breakfast spread, with Mark arranging plates out on the kitchen island. He smiles at Donghyuck and pretends for all of five minutes that he’d cooked the food before admitting that he’d ordered from the kitchens downstairs and had it brought up.

Mark spreads butter on Donghyuck’s toast, clumsy and uneven, and asks him if he slept well last night. Donghyuck gently takes the food from Mark’s hands, smiling at the sheepish expression on the other man’s face. “Sorry, I’m not good at stuff like this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and promptly knocking over his glass of orange juice.

Donghyuck deftly spreads butter over the slice, getting some strawberry jam on top of it as well. “It’s not difficult,” he says, picking up another slice and buttering it for Mark. “Strawberry or grape?”

“Hm?”

“The jam. For your toast.”

“Oh – wait, did they send up orange marmalade? I like that.” Mark rummages around the spread on the table, pushing aside a plateful of mini croissants to reveal a small package of marmalade. “Aha! This, please, and thank you.”

The corner of Donghyuck’s lip quirks up in amusement, and he ducks down to hide the mirth dancing in his eyes. “My grandmother used to make orange marmalade when I was younger,” he says, carefully covering the bread with the spread. “She used to have the maid keep me out of the kitchen so that I wouldn’t finish off the fruits before she was done. She always caved, though, and she kept a special spoon that I could lick from.”

“That sounds nice,” Mark says, sounding wistful as he takes the slice from Donghyuck. “Thank you – wow! You spread it so well; it looks like it came from a commercial.”

“You’re too easily impressed,” Donghyuck says, shaking his head as he bites into his own toast. It’s delicious; he can tell everything was freshly made. He picks up a croissant with tongs and places it on his plate. “This is too much food – how are we going to finish it all?”

“Well – I was thinking that we could just stuff our faces with breakfast and heat what we can’t finish for lunch,” Mark says sheepishly. “I’m still pretty beat from yesterday – I don’t really feel like going outside, you know? I was thinking we could just stay in today and, well, laze around. How does that sound?”

Warmth blooms unexpectedly throughout Donghyuck, pleased at the suggestion. “That sounds really nice,” he says, and watches as Mark’s face breaks into a wide grin. “I’ve been itching to use your TV since I saw it last night.”

He hasn’t, not really, but he can’t deny that it’s nice to sit down on the carpeted floor, leaning on the couch as Mark loads up his Netflix account. Mark disappears into the bedroom for a bit, much to his confusion, only to come out carrying two thick quilts for the two of them to snuggle under while they watch movies. Donghyuck takes the offered covering and claims a pillow from the couch, making himself comfortable.

“Scoot over,” Mark says, occupying the space beside him. This isn’t anything like he’d expected, when he’d imagined how the day after his wedding might go. Mark hands him the remote with a smile, nodding to the screen to indicate that it’s his choice. He picks something boring, some generic romance movie from the west that he fully intends to doze through, eyelids drooping from how comfortable he is.

He doesn’t expect Mark getting invested in the plot, though, and watching his reactions quickly becomes more appealing than getting more sleep. He can sleep later, he thinks, watching the multitude of emotions that flickers through the other man’s face as the movie progresses. Mark’s eyes widen whenever a new plot detail is introduced; he gasps loudly when the secondary love interest is revealed. His face burns red whenever there’s someone kissing on screen, and he practically hides under his blanket when a particularly intimate scene plays out.

When the movie ends – with a kissing scene in the rain, probably just to fluster Mark even further – Donghyuck’s fully wrapped in his blankets, with only his eyes peeking out to watch Mark until the very end. He’s flushed, probably from the final scene, and he emerges slightly from his own blanket cocoon to grab the remote. “That was a good movie,” he says, using the remote to return to the home screen. “What should we watch next - ?”

He stops abruptly when his gaze lands on Donghyuck, eyes widening slightly. “What?” Donghyuck asks, poking his head out to look at Mark.

The older man beams, dropping the remote as his hands tentatively reach out to cup Donghyuck’s cheeks. “You look adorable right now,” he says, flushing with color as he says it. It doesn’t matter, though, because Donghyuck’s willing to bet that he’s just as red. “You look so cozy, wrapped up in your blankets. Are you comfortable?”

“Stop,” Donghyuck says, pouting on instinct, but it just makes Mark grin even wider and press his cheeks together. “Cute,” Mark declares happily, squishing his cheeks one last time before picking the remote up again and handing it to Donghyuck. “One more movie?”

Now armed with the knowledge that Mark has fantastic reactions to even the cheesiest of scenes, Donghyuck presses the buttons to bring up a cheesy horror movie, one he’s seen a couple of times before. It’s not scary, at least not to him, desensitized as he is to the cheap effects and the obviously fake gore. If his gut instinct is right, though, he has a feeling that Mark will still make some pretty great faces, and he kind of wants to get back at him for calling him _cute_, of all things.

His hunch pays off – not even a quarter through the movie, Mark is frozen stiff with fear beside him, obviously not trying to let on how scared he is. Donghyuck has half a mind to have mercy on him and suggest changing the movie, but he knows that the first kill scene is coming up and he _really _wants to see how Mark would react.

He’s not disappointed – the killer slices a woman in half with a chainsaw onscreen, coming seemingly out of nowhere, and Mark _screams_. He nearly upends the coffee table in front of them when he yelps, jumping clear out of his blankets.

“Oh my god, that was – Donghyuck?” He turns around, confused, watching the mass of blankets beside him shake. It’s only when his pulse calms down that he hears it, the sound of muffled laughter coming from deep inside the covers, full-bodied and genuine.

Mark sighs in mock annoyance, crawling over to dig through the sheets until he uncovers Donghyuck’s face. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, just barely able to keep his lips from twitching up at the sight of Donghyuck laughing so hard his breath starts coming out soundless.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply, unable to talk through his laughter, and Mark pulls the blankets across his face, covering him up. “You _screamed_,” Donghyuck eventually manages to wheeze out. “The effects were so bad and you screamed and your face – oh god, your face – ”

“Stop that,” Mark whines, brushing the blankets away from Donghyuck’s face to fix him with a disapproving glare. “You picked this movie on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I swear I didn’t, I promise – ” Donghyuck is cut off by another sudden scream from the still-playing movie, and Mark jumps in surprise again, flinging himself back from Donghyuck and landing on his butt.

“Ow, fuck,” Mark swears, wincing, as Donghyuck bursts into giggles again. “You’re enjoying yourself, huh?”

“Very much,” Donghyuck says, grinning, and stomach does a funny little thing when Mark mirrors his expression, eyes crinkling from the brightness of his smile.

It’s definitely not what he had expected, coming into this.

(He thinks, warily, tentatively, that he might like it.)

-

“One more night,” Donghyuck says.

“Okay,” Mark agrees easily, without a single question.

Donghyuck bites his lip, wondering if he’s asking too much, but Mark reaches out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Like I told you, for as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” Donghyuck says, raising his hand to cover Mark’s own. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

Mark’s eyes twinkle, tilting his head. “I have a feeling you won’t,” he says, turning to go to his room before Donghyuck can form a response.

(He still won’t share the bed with Mark tomorrow, and he knows it as well as Mark seems to.

He’s slightly worried about how well Mark can read him from this early on.)

“Soon, though,” Donghyuck calls out, and although he can’t see or hear the other man, he imagines that his words have put a smile on his face.

-

“How do you feel about Paris?”

Donghyuck blinks. “Paris? What are you talking about?”

“Our honeymoon trip,” Mark says, peering at his sleek silver laptop as he scrolls through lists of popular travel destinations. He’s predictably oblivious to the sudden blush that dusts Donghyuck’s cheeks when he hears the word _honeymoon_. “I know that we don’t have to go abroad or anything, but Mother has been pestering me to take you somewhere nice for our honeymoon, and she won’t shut up about it.”

“You don’t have to – ” Donghyuck begins, only to get silenced by Mark holding his hand up. “I want to,” he says insistently. “Even if Mother had never told me, I would’ve asked. I want to take you somewhere special for this – I mean, how often do you get to go on a honeymoon in your life?”

_More than once, depending on who you are_, Donghyuck thinks cynically, before pushing the thought out of his head. “Can we go somewhere with a beach?” he asks instead, coming up to stand behind Mark.

He tries not to let out a sound when Mark seemingly unconsciously leans his head back against his stomach, the point of contact suddenly bursting with warmth. “A beach…” Mark muses, typing rapidly. “What about Boracay? In the Philippines?”

Donghyuck looks at the pictures that Mark pulls up, all pure blue skies and bone-white sand. “I’ve heard people say it’s full of tourists, like, all the time,” he says doubtfully, watching as Mark scrolls through more pictures.

“Isn’t that better? We’ll blend right in. No one will recognize us at all,” Mark says, looking up at him. He looks dumb with his face upside-down, but still cute, and it annoys Donghyuck enough that he gently pushes his face back down to look at the screen. “I mean, if it’s not your thing, we can look up some other places?”

“Have you ever been there? Boracay?”

“Nope.” Mark shakes his head, clicking on a particularly beautiful shot of a sunset at the beach. “A lot of my colleagues have gone, though, which is why I thought of it when you said you wanted to go to a beach.”

Donghyuck looks at the picture, considering. “Let’s go, then,” he decides, placing his hands on Mark’ shoulders. “Boracay it is.”

-

The night before their flight to Caticlan, Donghyuck walks into Mark’s room.

Mark is at his desk, typing away at his laptop, but he turns around when he hears Donghyuck come in. “Donghyuck,” he says in surprise, immediately shutting his laptop. Donghyuck doesn’t want to show how pleased that makes him, being able to get Mark’s full attention without having to do anything. “Is something wrong? Do you need something?”

He shakes his head, clutching the pillow he’d brought with him and steeling himself to sit at the edge of Mark’s bed. “I’m sleeping here tonight, if that’s alright,” he says bravely, before tucking the bottom half of his face behind the pillow.

Mark’s mouth hangs open, his face cycling through surprise, then embarrassment, before ultimately settling on an almost shy expression. “Are you sure? I told you, take as long as you want, I don’t want you to force yourself to – ”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Donghyuck says, cutting him off, and he hides his face until only his eyes are peeking out, unwilling to show how hot his cheeks feel. “And I don’t want the first time we share a bed to be at a hotel. I want for it to be here. In – um. Our home.”

“Our home,” Mark repeats, sounding oddly choked. It gives Donghyuck a vicious sort of satisfaction, seeing how flustered the older man is from this gesture. “Yeah – um. Okay. Okay. That’s – okay, yeah,” he stammers, unable to finish a single sentence or even phrase.

Donghyuck smiles privately, hidden by his pillow. “Were you working, just now?”

“No – well, yeah, I was just – I was just reading a report the company sent me. I’m basically done for the night, so I’m all yours.” The moment he says that, his whole face blooms red. “I’m – I’m just gonna go take a shower!” he squeaks, bolting from his seat.

Pleased with himself, Donghyuck makes himself comfortable on Mark’s bed while he’s gone, occupying the left side of the bed. It smells like Mark, which isn’t surprising – like the nondescript soap he uses, and the faintest hint of the cologne he wears. The bed is cold, indicating that Mark hasn’t lain down on it for maybe the past few hours, but Donghyuck warms up quickly enough underneath the covers, clutching the pillow he’d brought with him.

He’s almost dozed off when Mark returns quietly, shutting off the light before crawling slowly into the bed beside Donghyuck. He’s suddenly fully awake, hyper aware of the presence behind him, and he turns in place to watch Mark as he settles in under the covers.

“Did I wake you?” Mark asks, reaching out to touch Donghyuck’s cheek. The smell of his body wash assaults Donghyuck’s nose, wrapping around him more strongly that his sheets had. He shakes his head. “I was waiting for you,” he says.

Mark grins. For a minute, they just lay there, tracing each other’s features with their eyes in the dark as their faces come into clearer view. “You have a lot of moles,” Mark whispers, eyes flickering back on forth across different spots on Donghyuck’s face. “Here, and here, and here, and here.”

“I have the Little Dipper on my face,” Donghyuck says, equally hushed. Here, in the dark, surrounded by their blankets and with no noise around, he feels brave. “And I have lots more, all over my body.”

“Pretty,” Mark breathes out, and for some reason that flusters Donghyuck more than anything Mark has ever said to him. “Donghyuck, you – you’re so, so, pretty.”

“You’re not too bad, yourself,” Donghyuck shoots back, desperately trying to regain his footing amidst the sincerity of Mark’s comment. “You’re… pretty, too.”

“Thanks,” Mark says, chuckling, as the hand on Donghyuck’s cheek rubs affectionately between his moles.

They stay there, like that, enjoying the comfortable silence, before Mark speaks again. “Hey, Donghyuck?” he says, voice low. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Donghyuck inhales sharply, but for once, Mark doesn’t backtrack or withdraw his statement. He just stays there, watching quietly, his nervousness clear in his eyes despite the firm set of his jaw. “You want to?” Donghyuck asks, eyes falling instinctively to Mark’s lips.

“Very much,” Mark answers, plain and honest. “I’ve… been wanting to kiss you again, ever since the wedding.”

“That was my first kiss,” Donghyuck blurts out, before he can stop himself. He bites his lip in embarrassment, eyes lowering even further down to avoid Mark’s gaze.

“Really?” he hears Mark ask, and he nods, not saying anything.

He feels the hand cupping his cheek gently pull his face up, presenting his whole face for Mark to look at. He feels Mark’s breath coming closer, and he closes his eyes, expectant, only to feel a warm pair of lips press upon his cheek, where he knows one of his moles is placed. “Mark,” he says, his voice hushed, but he falls silent when Mark repeats the motion, carefully kissing each mole on his cheek.

“Pretty,” Mark says again when he pulls back, and he smiles, face painfully close to Donghyuck’s own. “You’re just made of stars, aren’t you?”

Donghyuck blushes. “That was really cheesy, I hope you realize that,” he complains, trying to ignore the way his heart slams into his ribcage.

Mark laughs. “I’m not very good at compliments,” he admits. “I just say what’s on my mind, when I think of it. And you, Donghyuck Lee, are very, very pretty.”

Donghyuck groans in embarrassment, raising a hand to push Mark’s face away. “Hey, remember when you asked if you could kiss me?” he says, trying to bring them back on track. He will never admit it out loud, but he’s wanted to kiss Mark again, ever since their wedding, left curious and hanging by the hasty kiss they’d shared back then.

“You haven’t said yes,” Mark points out.

“You went ahead and kissed me anyway,” Donghyuck retorts, and this time, when Mark laughs in surprise, he joins along.

Mark leans in, eyelids becoming hooded. “I’m going to do it,” he warns, shimmying around to free his arm so he can hold both of Donghyuck’s cheeks in his hands. “I’m really going to do it.”

“You’re still not doing it,” Donghyuck says, and he catches Mark rolling his eyes affectionately just before he closes the gap between them. Mark presses his lips quickly to Donghyuck's, reminiscent of the chaste kiss they'd shared at their wedding. "So, by my count, that was your second kiss, right?" he asks with a silly grin, face hovering too closely.

"Yes," Donghyuck nods, too distracted by the blood rushing around his head to tease Mark for being corny. Mark leans in again, this time kissing the smile on his lips. "And that - that was my third, you dork. And you - what about you?"

"Hmm," Mark says, pretending to think, except he’s actually leaning forward to stealthily brush his nose against Donghyuck's. "That was my favorite kiss," he says, a dopy smile on his face. "My favorite kiss so far."

Donghyuck wonders, his heart swelling as Mark leans in again, and again, and again, if this whole thing was supposed to be this easy and good.

(When Mark wakes up, it’s to find that he’s completely wrapped up in Donghyuck’s arms, wound tightly around him like a vice. The younger is still asleep, face tucked into Mark’s chest, in the position that they’d been in last night.

Mark closes his eyes and buries his face in Donghyuck’s hair, unable to contain the helpless grin that overtakes his face. He lingers in the warmth of the embrace for a few more seconds, getting his fill of Donghyuck’s scent, basking in the peace before he has to get up and start getting ready.)

-

Mark gets a sunburn within three hours of being on the beach, and Donghyuck laughs at him as he rubs aloe all over his skin, having retreated under a large umbrella.

“It hurts,” Mark whines, startling visibly when Donghyuck passes his hands over the large burnt patch on his neck.

“I told you to put sunblock on before we went out,” Donghyuck says, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he finishes up with his ministrations. “Did you forget to put it on?’

“I didn’t think it would be _this_ hot,” Mark says, wincing as he straightens up, gingerly moving to avoid stretching the skin. “And it would’ve taken too long to wait for the sunblock to set, and I wanted to go out already.”

“Are you sure you’re twenty-four?” Donghyuck says, amused. “You sound like a little kid.”

“You didn’t put on any sunblock, and _you’re _fine,” Mark pouts, gesturing at Donghyuck’s sun-kissed skin. “That’s so unfair.”

“I was born and raised in Jeju – the heat doesn’t bother me. I like it.” To prove his point, Donghyuck steps out backwards out of the shade, bare feet digging into the white sand. He closes his eyes and raises his face to the sky, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. “See? It feels really nice.”

He doesn’t hear Mark reply, and eventually he opens his eyes in confusion, only to see Mark watching him with a stupidly soft smile on his face. “You have that dumb look on your face again,” Donghyuck says, crossing his arms as he starts shuffling back towards their umbrella.

“What look?”

“That – _that_.” Donghyuck reaches him and pokes the corner of Mark’s smile, only causing it to go up and crinkle his eyes even further. “This look.”

“I’m just looking at you, though?” Mark grabs Donghyuck’s wrist before he pulls away, earning a few more pokes to his cheek.

“Yeah, and – I don’t know, you look like you’re looking at a puppy or something. Or a kitten. You look at me like you want to pet me, or something.”

“Maybe I do,” Mark says, pulling him down to sit beside him in the sand. Donghyuck nearly stumbles, and he glares at Mark while he chuckles, righting himself on the towel they’ve spread out. “I can’t help it, since you keep insisting on being like that.”

“Like what?” Donghyuck asks, frowning.

Mark pokes the corner of his lips, the way he had to him. “Like that,” he says, the same expression still on his face. “How do you expect me to act when you keep being so cute?”

Donghyuck slaps his hand out of his face, cheeks burning. “Shut up, shut up, shut _up_,” he hisses, smacking Mark’s shoulder with each repetition and trying to ignore the way his pulse suddenly skyrockets. “I can’t believe you, you – you’re so – you’re so embarrassing, stop it, stop laughing!”

“But you get flustered so easily,” Mark laughs, and Donghyuck wants to call him out for saying that when _he_ had been so flustered by Donghyuck simply saying that they would share a bed. “It’s so cute.”

“You like this, huh?” Donghyuck says, covering his face with his hands and groaning.

“I like _you_,” Mark says honestly, and Donghyuck is really going to have to get him to stop being so honest if he’s going to survive this trip. Mark raps his knuckles against Donghyuck’s hair, prompting him to look up despite his flaming cheeks. “Hey, Donghyuck, look at me?”

“What?” Donghyuck mumbles, barely peeking out at Mark.

“I like you,” Mark says again. “I – hey, no, wait, listen to me, don’t look away – ” He catches Donghyuck’s cheeks and makes him face him head on, tenderly cradling his head in his hands. “I like you so much, and I… I’m really glad that you’re the one I get to come here with.”

Donghyuck closes his eyes, unable to bear the sincerity of Mark’s words. “Me too,” he says quietly, certain that the other man can hear him. He doesn’t elaborate what he’s referring to, but then again, as he feels Mark’s hand softly stroke his hair, he supposes he doesn’t have to.

-

It starts on the second night of their stay in Boracay.

Donghyuck ducks out of the shower, wearing sweatpants with his towel draped loosely over his bare chest. He’d forgotten to grab his shirt before going in the bathroom, and the cool air of the room makes goosebumps rise all over his skin.

“Excuse me,” he says quietly, to no one in particular, looking around the room and finding the shirt where he’d haphazardly thrown it on the bed. He hears a sharp intake of breath and looks around to find Mark coming in through the door, carrying a bag of snacks from the convenience store across the hotel.

“Oh, I didn’t know you went out,” Donghyuck says, picking up the shirt from the bed. “Hold on, I’m almost done, you can take a shower next.”

“Yeah, I – okay.” Mark has a dumb look on his face – he has several kinds, Donghyuck’s come to learn, and he’s slowly assigning a name to each of them. There’s the dumb look he gets when he’s smiling at Donghyuck; the dumb look he gets when he’s confused about something, like when the vending machine downstairs had eaten up all his money; the dumb look he gets when he’s watching horror movies. This look, this expression, is one Donghyuck hasn’t seen before – his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wide, and his throat bobs, swallowing harshly.

His eyes flick down Donghyuck’s bare chest and he _thinks_, he _feels_, that he knows what this look is.

“I’m gonna – go back inside,” Donghyuck stammers, suddenly nervous, and he knows that red blooms across his chest, judging from the warmth he suddenly feels. He all but runs into the bathroom, nearly slamming the door behind him, trying in vain to fight the goosebumps that had risen all over his skin.

He feels dizzy, warm all over, and yet… it didn’t feel unpleasant. It was just shocking – he’d never had anyone look at him like that before, with such undisguised attraction and _want_, and the fact that it had taken all of a few seconds for him to have that kind of effect on Mark – the fact that it was _Mark_… Donghyuck closes his eyes, pressing his palms into his eyelids.

He comes out after washing his face for the second time that night, having put his shirt on. Mark is busying himself at the mini fridge they have in the room, putting away the snacks that he’d bought. Donghyuck spots him putting away a couple of bottles of strawberry milk, something Donghyuck had only mentioned liking once or twice, and he feels fondness suffuse his chest.

“Are those for me?” he asks, coming up behind Mark, who predictably jumps in surprise. He bumps into Donghyuck as he turns around, but his hands come up instinctively to steady Mark, already accustomed to such reactions. “The – what?”

“The strawberry milk you bought,” Donghyuck explains. “Did you get those for me?”

Mark relaxes, turning back to the fridge. “Yeah, you said that you liked it, didn’t you?” he says. “I was surprised they carried Korean brands in the store, but I suppose they’re catering to the Korean tourists who come here. They had Melona too, so I got some. Strawberry okay?”

“I love strawberry,” Donghyuck says, unable to help the smile on his face.

“I noticed,” Mark says absently, still not facing him. “You always put strawberry jam on everything, I honestly don’t know how you can consume that much and not get sick of it and – Donghyuck?”

He breaks off into silence because Donghyuck has come up closer, wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist and tucking his face in between his shoulder blades. Donghyuck feels overcome, overwhelmed – overwhelmed with affection for this clumsy, endearing man, who’s married him and given him the ring currently sitting on his finger, and who’s treated him with more care and consideration in a week than anyone Donghyuck can remember in his _life_.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the material of Mark’s shirt, inhaling the remnants of sand and ocean clinging to the fabric. “This is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.”

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t remember ever being thought of like this – the only times he’s felt this kindness directed towards him is during his childhood, when a younger, softer Youngho would bring him random toys or gifts before their family had had him shipped off to boarding school. Maybe it’s because he’s never felt this kind of care from his own parents, who’ve only ever seen him as another piece in their game, another commodity that they could trade off as they wish for their personal gain. It’s ironic, he thinks, that in securing another merger for their growing empire, they’ve handed Donghyuck off to maybe one of the only people in the world who would care for him.

“I – I just got you strawberry milk, Donghyuck,” Mark says, laughing nervously. His hands go down to clutch at Donghyuck’s where they’re wrapped against his stomach, stroking his knuckles comfortingly. “I’m a little worried if you think that’s the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you.”

“Well, it is,” Donghyuck says stubbornly, pressing his forehead against Mark’s back. “So shut up and let me thank you, you idiot.”

Mark chuckles, and he gently gets Donghyuck to release him so he can turn around and face him. “You’re welcome, then,” he says, grinning. “Don’t I get anything in return?”

“Hm,” Donghyuck says, pretending to think. “I’ll pay you back when we get home. With twenty percent interest.”

Mark’s smile gets bigger. “Anything else?”

“Greedy,” Donghyuck breathes out, watching his husband lean closer. “You’re being greedy – ”

He’s cut off by Mark pressing his lips against his and this – oh, Donghyuck knows in his bones that this is a _real_ kiss, nothing like the sweet pecks that Mark insists on giving him whenever he can. When Mark’s lips first start moving against his own, slow and languid, Donghyuck breathes in sharply, getting weak at the knees at the sensation.

Mark kisses like he’s trying to taste every inch of Donghyuck’s lips and commit it to memory, slowly savoring the way Donghyuck’s plump and soft mouth feels against his own. It’s addicting, both the pleasant sensation of kissing, and the way he makes Donghyuck feel so – wanted. _Desired_. They stay like that for a few minutes, lips moving gently against each other’s, until Mark gets tired of the slow pace and pulls Donghyuck in closer, hand splayed against the small of his back.

Donghyuck gasps when Mark suddenly tugs him closer, mouth falling open in surprise. “Is this okay?” Mark asks quickly, breathing heavily against Donghyuck’s mouth. Donghyuck almost hurts his neck from how fast he nods, eager to have Mark’s lips against his own again.

“Okay, let’s – ” Mark doesn’t get to finish his sentence, impatiently directing the two of them to the bed. He gently lowers Donghyuck onto his back, looming over him with most of his body weight being supported by his forearms.

“Okay?” he asks again, searching for confirmation in Donghyuck’s face. Donghyuck’s heart swells with affection once more, endeared by Mark’s consideration, and he pulls him down by the neck instead of replying.

Like this, it’s easy to lose track of time altogether. Donghyuck doesn’t know when he started wanting this, started wanting to get closer, but he can tell that maybe _Mark _has been wanting this for longer than he has. It’s in the way Mark seems to have a mental checklist of what wants to do to Donghyuck – the way his hands move deliberately to his hair, then to his cheek, then to his collarbone, slowly sneaking his fingertips underneath the collar of Donghyuck’s gray shirt. It’s in the way he pulls back to break the kiss, only to lean down again to kiss his forehead, his eyelids, his cheekbones, his movements quick and jerky as if he couldn’t help himself. It’s in the way he whispers Donghyuck’s name – “_Donghyuck_,” – with reverence and a deep sort of longing, a desire whose depth Donghyuck can’t comprehend.

It’s hard for him to wrap his mind around it, as Mark moves to peppering wet kisses against his jawline – it’s hard for him to understand how Mark could possibly like him this much, this fast.

But for now, he decides not to question it, toes curling as Mark whispers sweet nothings against his neck, breath coming out hotly against his skin.

“Mark,” he whispers, pulling him up to kiss him again, and he decides that for now, this is enough.

-

It’s as if, that night, a dam had been broken.

After that night, Mark can’t seem to keep his hands off Donghyuck, constantly sneaking around his waist, his shoulders, the small of his back. It doesn’t even seem like he’s doing it on purpose, absentmindedly pulling Donghyuck in closer when people pass by them, or holding his hand just because he feels like it.

It’s driving Donghyuck insane, and he can’t even say anything to Mark without letting him know how flustered all this added attention is making him.

“Do you want to eat here?” Mark asks, pulling Donghyuck away from his thoughts. He blinks, feeling Mark squeeze his hand. “Hey, are you okay? Is the heat getting to you?”

“Is the heat getting to me, he asks,” Donghyuck mutters, earning a fond smile and a pinch from Mark. “I was just looking at the sand. I’m fine.”

“It really is as white as it looks in the pictures, isn’t it?” Mark says, looking down admiringly as he shuffles his toes through the sand. Donghyuck definitely has it bad for him, if he thinks that small, random action was cute. “So, like I was asking – this place looks nice. Wanna eat here?”

“Sure,” Donghyuck shrugs, letting Mark pull him inside the restaurant.

It’s some kind of all-day breakfast place, and the cheerful lady behind the counter enthusiastically recommends something called _tapsilog_ and insists on bringing them a pitcher of cold water. She’s delighted by Mark’s manners and accented English, cooing over the two of them and even patting Donghyuck on the head. “Everyone here is so friendly,” Donghyuck comments, tracing shapes in the condensation that’s gathered on the pitcher. He catches himself drawing a heart and quickly scrubs it out with his thumb.

“They are, aren’t they? They’re so pleasant,” Mark agrees, looking around the place. The restaurant, more a diner than anything, is decorated with vintage posters, images of old Filipino singers wearing thin shirts made of a translucent, pearly cloth. “That lady, just now – she looked like she was one second away from trying to adopt you.”

“You, too,” Donghyuck says. “She looked like she was trying her best not to pinch you and start talking in a baby voice.”

Mark grins at him, opening his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by Donghyuck’s phone suddenly ringing with a call. “Oh, you should get that,” he says instead, watching Donghyuck grope around his pockets for his phone.

“Who could be calling me now?” Donghyuck wonders, grumbling. It couldn’t be his parents – they’d barely said anything when he’d informed them of this trip, with only some vague congratulations and generic words of caution from his mother. When he swipes at the screen to see who it is, his blood turns to ice.

It’s Youngho.

He swallows, hand shaking just the tiniest bit. “Donghyuck?” Mark asks, leaning forward to see his face. Worry laces his expression, seeing Donghyuck’s sudden distress. “Are you okay? Who is it?”

“My older brother,” Donghyuck says, tapping at the screen. His finger hovers over the accept button, knowing this isn’t a call he can avoid by any means. “He’s – um. Well. I’ll just take this, okay?”

He rises from the table, making his way outside. He shakes his head and waves Mark away when he makes to follow, shooting him a firm look. “No, you stay here. I’ll be right back, I promise,” he says, and it takes a few seconds before Mark sighs and returns to his seat.

Donghyuck inhales, bracing himself, before accepting the call. “Hyung?” he asks, with no preamble. It isn’t necessary, not with his older brother.

“_Where are you?_” Youngho is equally straightforward, not wasting any time. “_Mother and Father won’t tell me where you he took you_.”

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Donghyuck says, trying to soothe his older brother. For better or worse, Youngho has always been protective and borderline possessive of him, always trying to shield Donghyuck from the outside world. In another, simpler time, it reassured Donghyuck – now, it just feels suffocating.

“_You didn’t answer my question, Donghyuck-ah. Where are you?_”

“I don’t have to tell you – ” Donghyuck tries, but Youngho cuts him off. “_Answer me_.”

Donghyuck sighs, frustrated. “I’m in the Philippines. In Boracay. With Mark.”

“_Are you okay? Where are you staying? I’ll be there as soon as I can get a flight there, I can’t believe they’d fucking _hide _this from me _– ”

“This is exactly why they hid it from you, hyung,” Donghyuck says quietly. “They knew you would react like this.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, before Youngho scoffs. “_They’re idiots if they thought they could keep me from finding out_,” he says.

_They knew you would find out_, Donghyuck wants to say. _There’s no way they could’ve kept it a secret from you for long. They just tried to delay the inevitable._

Hearing his brother’s reaction now, Donghyuck thinks this is maybe the first time in a long time that he’s glad his parents decided to meddle. “Don’t come,” Donghyuck says, his voice nothing more than a hushed whisper.

“_What did you say?_”

“Don’t come. Leave – please, leave us alone. Leave _me_ alone. Mark’s a good man, hyung – he is, he truly is. I… he takes care of me. I’m _happy_.”

“_Happy_,” Youngho repeats, voice full of scorn. “_Donghyuck, do you hear yourself talking? You’re in an arranged marriage. You were _forced _to marry him. There’s no happiness to be found in a farce like that._”

Donghyuck turns back to the restaurant, peeking through the windows, where Mark is still seated at the table. The lady is bringing two plates of food to him, before going to the kitchen and returning with two glasses of orange juice. From the smile on his face and the way that Mark keeps bowing repeatedly to her, Donghyuck guesses that she’s giving it to them for free, without Mark asking. He looks up just at that moment, meeting Donghyuck’s eyes, and he smiles softly, gesturing with his head for Donghyuck to come back and join him.

“I _am_ happy,” Donghyuck breathes out, smiling reassuringly and waving at Mark. “I _am_ happy, and just because _you’re _miserable with who you married, that doesn’t mean I have to be like you.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Donghyuck knows he’s struck home, where it hurts. “_Yah, Lee Donghyuck_ _– _”

“Don’t come,” Donghyuck says firmly. “Don’t come anywhere near us, hyung.”

And then, he hangs up.

His heart is slamming against his chest – not even five seconds later, the same number is on his screen, his phone ringing incessantly. This time, however, he presses _Reject_, even if it causes his anxiety to spike up. He waits five seconds, then ten.

Youngho doesn’t call again.

This isn’t the end of it, Donghyuck knows, exhaling harshly. Youngho is persistent, and more importantly, he’s never had Donghyuck speak back to him, or defy him. He’s never thought that Donghyuck could find anyone to give him love and affection, and for Donghyuck to find it in his husband, a husband that was _chosen_ for him – it must be a painful slap to the face. He’s not sure what his older brother could do, now that Donghyuck is far from his reach, but he doesn’t dare underestimate Youngho’s influence.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks him as he ambles inside, anxiously scanning his countenance. “You looked upset, out there. Even the nice lady was asking me what was wrong.”

Donghyuck smiles weakly, ducking his head. “My older brother called,” he explains, taking his seat. “He and I… well, we’ve always been weird with each other. He’s really overprotective of me, and I don’t think he likes that I’m on this trip.”

Mark frowns. “Oh,” he says sadly. “Does he not trust me, or does he not like me? Or something?”

_He absolutely hates your guts, even if he’s never met you_, Donghyuck thinks, but of course he doesn’t say that. “Of course he doesn’t like you,” he teases, poking Mark’s cheek. “You took his little brother away from him. He’s used to having all my attention.”

Inexplicably, Mark brightens. “So, it’s because I have your attention, then? That’s why he’s mad?” he asks eagerly, and Donghyuck laughs. The sour phone call with Youngho is quickly fading into the background, erased simply by spending time with Mark.

“That’s a strange thing for you to be so happy about,” Donghyuck says, looking away as he starts picking up his utensils. The food had been brought over while he was outside, and it looks delicious. “But, yes. If you want to think that, then – you have it. My attention, I mean.”

“That’s all I ever wanted, anyway,” Mark says, picking up his own spoon and fork as if he isn’t making a huge confession, as if what he’s saying is of no importance. Donghyuck, however, isn’t as inclined to make light of this statement. “Mark, wait, what – what do you mean?”

“Hm?”

“Mark Lee, don’t you dare _hm_ me right now,” Donghyuck whines, gripping Mark’s shoulder and earning a surprised chuckle from the other man at his insistence. “That, what do you mean by that – when you said that all you want is my attention?”

“Well, I mean, not really,” Mark says, continuing to cut into his food with all the nonchalance in the world. “I, well – how do I explain this? I wanted your attention – no, that’s not quite right. I… wanted you to look at me. I wanted a chance.”

He looks up suddenly, smiling as if he’s pleased by finding the right word, the right term. “That’s exactly it, I think. I just wanted you to give me a chance. I wanted you to give _us _a chance. So, all this – this, everything between us, everything that’s _been_ happening between us… it’s way more than I thought I would get. So, I’m – I’m really glad. You have no idea how happy I am, right now.”

Mark smiles tenderly, rubbing his thumb across Donghyuck’s cheek. “I keep saying it again and again, but I’m glad I’m here with _you_, Donghyuck. You and no one else.”

Donghyuck blinks, speechless, and his silence seems to unnerve Mark, who averts his gaze and turns back to his food, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I – I told you, I can get really sappy, even if I don’t always know what to say. I’m sorry if – I, um, I understand completely, and I’m sorry, really sorry, if that was too much. Or if I, you know, crossed a boundary, so if you – ”

“Mark,” Donghyuck breathes out, chest tight. “Shut up and look at me.”

Mark obeys, shutting up straight away for once, and Donghyuck’s chest aches at the fear and apprehension written plainly on his face. He’s truly afraid, he realizes, afraid that he’s said too much, that he’s laid too much of himself bare before Donghyuck. It’s only now that Donghyuck realizes how much Mark likes him, how much he worries that he likes Donghyuck more than the boy would ever like him, and it makes his heart hurt with a sweet kind of pain.

He doesn’t _understand_.

Why does Mark like him this much? _Care_ for him this much? How had Donghyuck missed all of this – where had he been while Mark was busy falling for him like this?

“I’m happy, too,” Donghyuck says honestly, and it’s magical, the way his words ease all the tension out of Mark, the way his entire body relaxes with relief. “I’m – you make me happy. I’m _happy_, plain and simple.”

He looks quickly around the diner, but no one is looking their way – he presses a kiss to Mark’s cheek, swift and sweet, a quick reminder of his affection. “Thank you,” he whispers to Mark. The other man bumps his shoulder against his, lowering his hand under the table, where Donghyuck can grip it, squeeze it tight.

“I’m happy, too,” Mark says, grinning as he laces their fingers together, squeezed between their thighs like a secret. “You make me happy, too.”

When Mark leans in for a quick kiss that becomes two, then three, then more, their faces hidden away from the rest of the world, Donghyuck mentally apologizes to his brother. _I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Youngho. But I won’t be. I won’t be sad because of you._

-

Try as he might to get more time off, Mark only manages to get one more week away from work.

On the morning of their third week together, _married_, Mark kisses Donghyuck on the forehead before leaving for work.

“Do you want to go out for dinner later? When I come back?” he murmurs, hand gently cradling the back of Donghyuck’s neck. Donghyuck closes his eyes and shakes his head lazily, wanting to sink back into the comfort of the sheets. Since they came back from Boracay, there hasn’t been a night that he hasn’t slept in Mark’s bed – slowly, his stuff is making its way into this room.

“I’ll make you something,” Donghyuck says drowsily, hugging the pillow that Mark had lain on. “I haven’t cooked for you, yet. Grandma would be disappointed if she knew my husband hasn’t tasted any of the recipes she’s taught me.”

“God,” Mark says, suddenly embracing Donghyuck and squeezing him between his arms. “Say that again.”

“What? That you haven’t tasted any of the recipes I know?”

“Before that. Or in the middle of that. I don’t know – just, that part where you called me your husband. That.”

Donghyuck laughs, hopelessly fond. “You’re so weird,” he says, reaching up to hug Mark back, and even though he’s laughing, he decides to indulge him. “My husband is a weird, weird man.”

Mark groans. “Again, please. Just one more time.”

“My husband should go to work,” Donghyuck whispers directly into his ear, delighting in the sensation of Mark shivering under his hold. “And my husband should know I’m not going anywhere while he’s gone.”

“_Okay_, I’m good,” Mark says, voice sounding dry, and Donghyuck laughs as he pulls away, his cheeks red. It’s taken him some time to come to terms with the _depth_ of Mark’s attraction for him, but it never fails to make him feel good when he sees proof of it. “Are you going to stay inside all day? Will you be fine?”

“Mm,” Donghyuck says vaguely, already snuggling back under the covers. “I still haven’t gotten over the jet lag.”

“Korea and the Philippines literally have _one_ hour between their time zones,” Mark laughs.

“Oh, like I said, terrible jet lag,” Donghyuck says, moaning in fake distress. Mark picks up a pillow and smushes his face with it, laughing fondly. “Alright, I get it, I get it, you big baby. You have my number for anything – call downstairs if you want something to eat.”

“Mm,” Donghyuck says again, this time hiding under the blankets, blocking out the light along with Mark’s face. “Have a good day at work.”

Donghyuck hears Mark chuckle, his footsteps getting soft as he walks out the door. “It’s already a good day because of you,” he calls out, before shutting the door behind him.

If Mark’s mission was to make it so Donghyuck was unable to go back to sleep for the rest of the morning, then good fucking job, he’s done it.

Like this, time passes. Mark wakes up, leaves for work after wheedling as many kisses as he possibly can from a sleepy Donghyuck, and comes back in the evening, either with a reservation for them at a restaurant or takeout that they devour in the kitchen. Donghyuck is – happy, he won’t lie, but he quickly grows restless. He can only take so much of staying inside every day – and even if he went outside, there’s nothing much for him to do. Worse still, he doesn’t want to run into any of Youngho’s colleagues, or any of his subordinates – he knows they frequent this area of Gangnam where his and Mark’s place is located, and he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

Which is why on the fourth straight day of monotony, Donghyuck perches himself in front of his personal laptop, browsing online. He’s missed playing music, and while it’s definitely not advisable for him to order a full-on grand piano or even just a violin online, ordering an electronic keyboard would be good enough for now. God knows he’d rather die than order a Steinway or a Stradivarius online, without judging the quality of the instrument for himself in person.

The keyboard comes that evening, because Donghyuck isn’t stupid and takes advantage of the fact that Mark can very well afford expedited shipping. It arrives about an hour after Mark comes home, and he’s the one who accepts the package, confusion written all over his face as he brings it in.

“What is this? I don’t remember ordering anything?” he says, carefully lugging the heavy rectangular box to the center of their living area.

“Oh perfect, it’s here! Help me unwrap it!” Donghyuck cheers, scrambling to get up from the sofa to pull the package away from Mark.

“What is it? Did you order something online?” Mark asks, watching with an amused face as Donghyuck enthusiastically tears through the wrapping.

“Yeah, I did!” Donghyuck’s smile gets exponentially wider when the keyboard is uncovered, running his fingers on top of the keys. “I was getting bored of looking up dumb movies on your Netflix account – ” Mark lets out an offended gasp, pinching Donghyuck’s side, “ – and I missed playing, so. I got this!”

“You play the keyboard?” Mark says, standing up to help him assemble it, earlier affront already forgotten.

“I play the piano,” Donghyuck corrects him. “And the violin. It’s pretty different. My old piano teacher did teach me cool songs to play with the synths on keyboards, so it should be pretty interesting if I still remember any of those.”

“What songs do you know how to play, other than those?”

“Classical music, mainly,” Donghyuck says, stepping back as Mark takes over getting the keyboard on its stand. He’s already holding the cord in his hand, ready to insert the jack and plug it in as soon as Mark is finished. “I didn’t learn too many pieces, but I used to be obsessed with Liszt when I was younger. I could probably play _Liebestraum _from muscle memory, just based on how often I played it back then.”

“Play it for me now?” Mark requests, turning around. He holds out his hand, and for a second, Donghyuck instinctively reaches out to take it with his own, before realizing that Mark’s asking for the cord. He flushes, handing it over. “I don’t know much about classical music, but I want to listen to you play.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck agrees quickly. They shuffle around to make space for the keyboard near the outlet, pushing one of the chairs forward for Donghyuck to sit on while Mark stands behind him. He warms up his hands, going through scales, losing himself in the motions and familiarizing himself with the keyboard, the give and texture of the keys under his fingers.

“That sounds pretty,” Mark says admiringly, and Donghyuck laughs. “I’m literally just warming up – I haven’t even played a real song yet.”

“Oh. Well, I told you, I don’t know much about classical music. I probably couldn’t tell the difference if you just – made something up.”

“What if I do? What if I just make something up and say Mozart composed it? Would you believe me?”

Mark presses a kiss to the back of Donghyuck’s head, endlessly tender. “I’d maybe think something was up,” he says into his hair. “But I’d tell you that you played beautifully, either way.”

Donghyuck smiles privately, face turned away from Mark. “I’m going to play now, for real,” he tells Mark, placing his fingers at the starting position. Mark hums into his hair, resting his chin on his head with just the barest amount of pressure.

The first bars are unsure, a little wobbly. It’s been some time since Donghyuck last played the song, and even longer since he played on a keyboard. But _Liebestraum_, specifically the third one, is one of his favorite songs to play on the piano, one of his favorite songs, full stop, and it doesn’t take long for muscle memory to take over and carry the melody through.

He feels Mark sag against him, relaxing as the music washes over him. Donghyuck closes his eyes, and even though that makes him miss a few notes, it barely matters, because he knows it wouldn’t make a difference to Mark. And Mark’s the one he’s playing for, in the end, isn’t he?

When he reaches the first cadenza, his left hand moving like a spider amongst the lower octaves of the piano, he feels Mark start to sway, lost in the powerful swelling of the music. He stills in place, holding his breath, when Donghyuck gives up on hitting all the correct notes in the descending part, choosing to hide it all with a glissando that he knows Mark would find impressive anyway. He hears a soft “wow,” from above him, and he smiles, playing on.

When he reaches the last few bars of the song, he drags it on, letting the sparse chords fill the space for as long as he can. Inevitably though, he reaches the conclusion, and when the silence stretches on for about ten seconds, Mark seems to catch the hint and realizes that the song is over.

“Are you finished?” Mark asks, voice low. Donghyuck nods, jostling Mark’s chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “That was beautiful.”

Donghyuck is quiet for a beat, before he lets out a soft chuckle. “How predictable,” he says, but his chest feels light from hearing the compliment.

“You know I’m not good at compliments,” Mark complains, even though Donghyuck would very much beg to differ. “That was… nice. I could tell that you really do love that song. I don’t… I don’t know how it’s supposed to sound like, but the way you played it felt… different. You made it sound really – tender, and sad. I don’t know how to describe it, but it felt like I was listening to a love song.”

“It kind of is,” Donghyuck says evenly. “_Liebestraum _means _a dream of love_, in German.”

“Oh,” Mark says, dumbly. Donghyuck is incredibly fond. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah, it is. And I played it for you.”

“So you did,” Mark says, and Donghyuck cannot tell if he’s dense or flustered and trying to play it off. Knowing Mark, it could truly go either way.

“So if I played a song called _A Dream of Love_ for you, and you say that the way I played it felt like listening to a love song, then…?”

“Then,” Mark says, tentatively placing his hands on Donghyuck’s shoulders, as if to keep him still. “Then, that means you love me, too?”

Donghyuck startles, fingers abruptly hitting random keys on the keyboard and producing a dull, horrible sound. Mark immediately releases him, hands flying from his shoulders as if he’d been burned.

There’s silence for a good minute or so, a quiet space of time in which neither of them are willing to move. In the end, though, no matter what compliments or cheesy remarks Mark can come up with, Donghyuck is and will always be the braver one between them, the first to turn around and face him head on.

“Do you mean that?” Donghyuck asks, cutting straight to the heart of this situation. Did Mark mean it, was he saying the truth when he implied that he – that _Mark_, Mark Lee – that he loved Donghyuck.

He needs to know.

Mark inhales, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Donghyuck can immediately tell he’s agitated. “It’s just me, Mark, you know that,” he says softly, unable to bear seeing Mark so tense. He reaches out and is pleased when Mark doesn’t turn him away, allowing him to take his hand. “You don’t have to be scared with me. I’m your husband, and you’re mine.”

Maybe it’s that statement that does it, but Mark relaxes enough to look up and meet Donghyuck’s gaze.

He tries again, heart threatening to rip through his chest. “Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds and a few squeezes from Donghyuck’s hand, but eventually Mark nods once, hard and jerky. “I’m in love with you, Donghyuck,” he says, raw and open, trusting Donghyuck with this, all of himself and offering it up for him to do with as he wishes. “And I’ve never meant anything I’ve ever said more than this.”

Donghyuck closes his eyes, finding himself overcome with emotion once again. Is it possible for a person to be this happy? He can’t imagine this much happiness fitting into one person, least of all for him to be the one experiencing such joy. Still, no matter how happy Mark’s words make him, he has to be honest.

“I don’t think I’m quite there yet,” Donghyuck tells him, and he opens his eyes, searching Mark’s face carefully, gauging his reaction. To his immense relief, he finds almost no disappointment, only resignation and acceptance. It’s more than he could have hoped for. “But you – you make it so easy to love you, I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks softly. “When?”

Donghyuck smiles, knowing the game they’re playing now. He knows that Mark knows – this isn’t a rejection. It’s a promise. “Maybe tomorrow,” he says, shrugging. “Give me one more night to think about it.”

“I have a feeling you won’t, not tomorrow,” Mark answers, echoing his words from so long ago – no, just a few weeks ago. Is this real? Can one person truly have this much of a hold over Donghyuck in the span of a few weeks?

_Not just any person_, his mind helpfully supplies. _Only him_.

“Soon, though,” Donghyuck says, and Mark finally smiles, finally allows himself to be pulled in for a hug, for a kiss. He knows they have time, after all.

They have all the time in the world for this extraordinary love to grow.

-

Three months later, Mark goes on a business trip. It’s the worst three days of Donghyuck’s life.

It was supposed to be the worst _week_ of Donghyuck’s life, a full seven-day trip, but Donghyuck calls him on the third night – voice small as he whispers, _I miss you_ – and Mark comes running, back to him on the first flight he could get back to Seoul.

Youngho scoffs when he hears the story, calling the two of them overdramatic and _dependent_ on each other, but Donghyuck’s trying to get along with him better, so he doesn’t argue. He can’t lie and say that Mark coming back just because he said he missed him wasn’t a bit much, but waking up to his husband leaning over him in bed, still in the suit he’d worn to his last meeting, well – suffice to say that they’d missed each other too much, in more ways than one.

“I met your brother,” Mark tells him later, while he’s busy tracing shapes between the moles scattered on Donghyuck’s back. Donghyuck stretches, groaning as he feels several of his joints pop in the most pleasant way. Mark pauses in his ministrations, distracted by the sound, but he presses on. “I think he’s the one who arranged for the big merger meeting to be held in Japan, just so he could keep me away from you, to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Donghyuck says, nearly asleep. He wants nothing more than to fall asleep like this, bare skin tucked under the covers, wrapped loosely in Mark’s arms. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He cornered me,” Mark says lazily, pressing a kiss to the back of Donghyuck’s neck. “At the hotel bathroom. Scared the living daylights out of me – he told me that if I so much as laid a single finger on you, or looked at you funny, then he was going to – God, I forgot what he said. I think he told me something along the lines of regretting I was ever born.”

Donghyuck laughs softly, turning around to look at Mark’s dumb, soft face. He presses a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet, and closes his eyes, basking in their shared warmth.

“Youngho doesn’t need to know about what we do,” Donghyuck says, and there’s not a single trace of doubt that Mark agrees with him.

-

(The first time Mark meets Donghyuck is at a party.

He hadn’t even wanted to go to this stupid costume party – his father had insisted, and so he’d gone. There’s no reason for him to be here, anyway – his older half-brothers can take care of all the socializing and smooching their family needs done, and then some. No one would care if the youngest little Lee of them all just ups and disappears from the family, the way he’d done so many times before.

It’s a dumb masked party – people going around in their fanciest, most expensive clothing while holding masks to their faces, as if their impressive and _important_ surnames and enterprises aren’t emblazoned on their lapels, pinned to their chests, or straight up written on the business card that they “for some reason” carried to this supposedly recreational event.

He escapes to the garden outside, still wearing the mask. It’s honestly the only way he’d feel comfortable here, hidden behind some semblance of anonymity. Littlest Lee or not, he’s _still_ one of the Lee brothers, and that means that people want to approach him, talk to him, get close to him. No thanks, he thinks, walking towards the fountain. He didn’t want any of that at all.

He quickly finds that he’s not alone, spotting someone walking around the edge of the fountain. He looks even younger than Mark, having taken off his mask. His black hair looks like it had been styled recently, but he’s run his fingers through it and ruined it. He’s wearing a charcoal gray suit, and he looks absolutely miserable.

“Hi,” Mark greets him. For some strange reason, his heart goes to this teenage boy, probably no older than sixteen, trapped in the same gilded cage as him.

The boy pauses and looks at him, and Mark gets his first good look at him. He’s – _pretty_ is the right word for him, and nothing else. His lips form a pronounced, heart-shaped pout, and his eyes, beautifully slanted at the corners, look at him with all the defiance and reticence of a boy his age. “Who are you?” he asks, instead of returning Mark’s greeting, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m just here to enjoy the air,” Mark says appeasingly, making sure to stand a respectable distance away. “It was getting hot in there, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Huh,” the boy says, resuming his walk around the fountain. “If I were you, I’d probably go back and enjoy the party.”

“Why aren’t you in there, then?”

“I don’t want to see my parents right now.” He completes one round then immediately starts another, lowering his hands, since he doesn’t need them to balance anymore. “Why not?” Mark asks.

“They’re probably looking for someone to marry me off to,” the boy says, completely matter-of-factly, and Mark thinks it’s incredibly fucked-up that that statement is normal to him, something he can completely relate to. “That’s what they did to my brother two years ago, so it’s probably my turn soon.”

He sighs, pausing in his step. “I just hope they don’t pick someone boring. I don’t think I could go on living if I had to marry someone uninteresting.”

“You could just get a divorce, though.” Mark doesn’t even know why he’s entertaining this conversation, but there’s something about this boy that draws him in, making him curious.

“Or I could poison them in their sleep and claim their money for myself,” the boy says cheerfully, and his statement shocks Mark enough that his jaw drops. The boy sees his horrified expression, evident even through the mask, and promptly bursts out laughing.

“Oh, you should see your face right now,” he says, clutching his stomach. “I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously if I said that.”

“No, I – ” Mark stammers, strangely flustered. “I didn’t think you – not that I thought you would actually – what I’m trying to say is – ”

“You’re funny,” the boy says approvingly, hopping off the edge of the fountain. “If I _have_ to marry someone I didn’t like, I hope they’re a little bit like you. I have no idea if we even have anything in common, but I think I could live with being married to someone like you if they give me great reactions like that.”

“I’m flattered,” Mark says, swallowing. Even though the other is younger, he’s aware that he has the upper hand, at least in verbal conversations. The boy beams.

“If a Sooman Lee approaches you with a proposal for his son, Donghyuck Lee, think it over, okay?” he says, walking past Mark back to where the party is. Mark is speechless, at the exchange, at the boy’s bravado, _everything_ – he can’t muster anything to say until it’s too late, and the boy has disappeared into the venue, probably never to be seen by him again.

At least he managed to get a name, though, even if it _was_ just given to him. “Donghyuck Lee,” Mark says, carefully testing the way the name sounds on his tongue.

He’s embarrassed to find that he likes it.)

-

(Three years later, a man named Sooman Lee approaches Mark with a proposition, via email of all things. In typical fashion, he doesn’t even bother showing up in person.

The rest, as they say, is history.)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if Johnny came across as an asshole. I needed someone to fill the role and it didn't feel right to use an OC.
> 
> I hope you guys liked it, even a little bit! Have a good day.
> 
> -
> 
> talk to me! I draw art too
> 
> [(art) twitter](https://twitter.com/lacie_draws) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/lacie_draws)


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